


Profound Bond

by kattyk (zenithblue)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Castiel and Dean in Love, Castiel in the Bunker, Castiel/Dean Winchester in the Bunker, Dean Hates Witches, Destiel - Freeform, Episode Related, Female Castiel, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderbending, Goddesses, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Idiots in Love, Impala, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Post-Canon, Sam Ships It, Season/Series 11, Spells & Enchantments, Spoilers, Witches, post episode: s11e03
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-04-29 11:07:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5125235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenithblue/pseuds/kattyk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean was still having problems looking Castiel in the eye, and if he was honest with himself, he knew that that was his own fault.  So when it happened, he simply added that to the pile of blame he shouldered for himself, and it barely registered against the crippling weight of the guilt he already carried for the things he’d done to the angel.  Had he been more comfortable being close to Castiel, had he been able to talk to the man, had he just been able to be in the same room as him, then perhaps they could have avoided a whole heap of difficulty.  </p><p>It all spiralled from him refusing to accept Castiel’s help, pushing the angel away to mask his own frustration and humiliation at the things he’d done.  When Castiel offered to heal him of the injuries he himself had inflicted, Dean said no, placing himself back into a purgatory of sorts, ice pack pressed to his face doing little to ease the pain or the swelling, but plenty to keep him from having to look at his brother or his friend. But Castiel hadn’t let it go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wrote this after watching season 11 ep 3, and I was just annoyed at Dean allowing himself to suffer like that, and it sort of spiralled from there. I've played a bit fast and loose with art history and Greek mythology, I guess that's the privilege of being a fiction writer. This is a complete fic of nine chapters in draft form, I'll be editing one or more chapters a week and posting as I edit. Feel free to leave comments!

Dean was still having problems looking Castiel in the eye, and if he was being honest with himself, he knew that that was his own fault. So when it happened, he simply added that to the pile of blame he shouldered for himself, and it barely registered against the crippling weight of the guilt he already carried for the things he’d done to the angel. Had he been more comfortable being close to Castiel, had he been able to talk to the man, had he just been able to be in the same room as him, then perhaps they could have avoided a whole heap of difficulty.

It all spiralled from him refusing to accept Castiel’s help, pushing the angel away to mask his own frustration and humiliation at the things he’d done. When Castiel offered to heal him of the injuries he himself had inflicted, Dean said no, placing himself back into a purgatory of sorts, ice pack pressed to his face doing little to ease the pain or the swelling, but plenty to keep him from having to look at his brother or his friend. But Castiel hadn’t let it go. He followed Dean from the bunker’s kitchen when Dean got up to go shower off the crud of the day.

“Dean, please, I can help, you don’t need to suffer.”

“Let it go Cas, I’ll be ok in a few days. I’m gonna take a shower ok?”

Castiel dropped his eyes, nodded and turned away. Dean hit the showers, wincing as the hot water pounded against the injuries Castiel couldn’t see, his back would probably be a rainbow of bruises in the morning. Dean knew he needed to stop getting thrown into shit, he was getting too old, his recovery took longer and longer, and he knew objectively that letting Cas press those two fingers to his forehead would leave him feeling fit and healthy again. The act would probably ease some of Castiel’s guilt too, and Dean felt bad for that. But he didn’t deserve the easy way out, Dean deserved penance for the things he’d done to Castiel, and so he took his time in the shower, soaping gingerly, and sighing when the hot water rinsed the blood and dust from his skin.

He should have known that Castiel would not give up, he was a stubborn son of a bitch when he wanted to be. And he was also probably the only man in creation, other than Sammy, who carried as much guilt as Dean did. Penance was their daily detail, the price of being Team Free Will. So when Dean found him perched on the end of his bed, still in that ridiculous trench coat, he didn’t know why he was surprised.

“Cas, what are you doing in here?”

“Dean, I,” Castiel stumbled over his words.

Dean stood in the doorway, already uncomfortable, trying not to think about the fact that he was standing in front of his best friend in nothing more than a towel. He waited, looking at nothing over the angel’s shoulder, for Cas to get to the point.

“Thank you.”

“What? What for?” Dean’s eyebrows raised as he finally made eye contact with Castiel, searching his eyes for any hint of the bloodshot which had been there only a few hours ago. He also searched for an explanation. Why was Castiel thanking him? He’d beaten Castiel to a bloody pulp, and threatened in no uncertain terms to do worse. Anything Dean had done since then could only try and apologise for that, and no apology would ever be enough.

“You lifted the spell. You and Sam, you released me from Rowena’s control. You stopped the madness from taking me. So thank you.”

Dean sighed. He debated for a moment and then shrugged, taking a seat next to Castiel on the end of his bed. Suddenly he felt exhausted.

“Cas, it was the least we could do. I couldn’t let that happen to you. You didn’t deserve that, whatever you’ve done. And besides, we need you fit and healthy if we’re going to do anything about the darkness.”

It was Castiel’s turn to hang his head. “Dean, I am sorry. Sam and I, we were so worried about you. We would have done anything to save you from the mark. We have made some grave mistakes.”

“We all make mistakes Cas, we just gotta fix them. And for that we need you in fighting form.”

Castiel locked eyes with Dean. “We need you in fighting form too Dean. You are hurting. I hurt you. Please, let me help you.”

Dean sighed again, caught in Castiel’s intense gaze. Eventually he relented and nodded. Castiel pressed two fingers to his forehead and a tiny glow of pale blue light flashed in Castiel’s eyes as Dean felt his whole body knit itself back together.

“That is… better I think.” Castiel murmured as he observed Dean’s now healed face. Dean nodded dumbly. Those small demonstrations of angelic power always reminded Dean of how supremely powerful Castiel really was, and never failed to leave him awed. Castiel’s fingers drifted down his freshly healed skin, tracing his cheek bone, and fluttering along his jawline. His voice was soft.

“We’ve been through so much, you and I.”

Dean just nodded again. The trail Castiel’s fingers left felt like a flicker of flame across his skin, and the touch was terrifying and compelling at the same time. He barely breathed as he realised how close he and Castiel were sitting. He eventually dropped his eyes, unable to gaze into the blue abyss any longer and found himself instead focusing on Castiel’s lips, soft, pink, too dry, always too dry. Still it was a surprise when those lips pressed against his own, for the briefest of seconds. Almost before he could register it, the contact was gone, and Castiel was standing.

“Get some sleep, Dean.”

“Cas?” But the angel was gone from the room before Dean was even sure what happened. While the touch had erased his pain, his exhaustion still remained. So Dean did what he did best, stowed the whole conversation very deep down, and hit the hay.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The next morning Castiel didn’t mention it and so neither did Dean. Even Sam noticed the awkwardness, but wisely chose not to comment on it after Dean bit his head off for noticing that he’d allowed the angel to patch him up. They moved around each other, all three of them, in a kind of detente. Dean was still pissed at Sam for keeping his deal with Rowena secret, and on top of that he was baffled by Castiel. Had he really kissed Dean, and what did it mean about Castiel’s feelings for him? Dean swore he would tell no one that he’d fallen asleep thinking of those lips on his, but every time he looked at Castiel he wondered if his newly returned grace extended his abilities as far as mind reading. For that reason, as well as Dean’s general lack of ability to deal with shit, he ended up giving the angel a wide berth for the next few days.

He wasn’t a complete ass. When Sam had suggested to Castiel that he stay with them, pointing out that neither heaven nor Rowena were in his fan club at the moment, Dean had not only agreed, but had set up one of the many bedrooms in the bunker for him. He wasn’t sure if Castiel needed to sleep, but he figured that the guy would appreciate a little privacy and his own space occasionally. That the room was the one directly opposite his own was just a happy accident. It had the least crap in it and a bed that looked like it would hold an angel of the lord. Dean resolutely didn’t think about Castiel lying in bed.

When Sam suggested they explore the bunker’s archives to see what the Men of Letters knew abut the darkness, Dean agreed. Castiel shared the extent of his knowledge, but admitted that his understanding was limited, angels told fairy stories of the darkness but knew little in the way of facts. The lore collected by the Men of Letters was certainly as good a place as any to start looking until they were able to track down Metatron, which Dean was still opposed to, or come up with a plan B, whatever that might be. When Sam distributed jobs, Dean readily took the library, leaving the as yet unexplored store rooms to Castiel, unable to face being in the small dark rooms with the angel without saying something about the kiss, a kiss which as time passed seemed to slip further from memory, and more into the hazy realms of his imagination, until he was unsure whether it had even happened at all.

So you see, if Dean had just accepted Castiel’s help in the first place, or nutted up enough to talk to the angel, or if he’d just been able to stow his crap and be in the same room with him, then what happened next might well have been averted. As it was, Castiel was the unfortunate victim of one of the Men of Letters’ many questionable treasures, with profound and wide reaching results.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dean was flicking through what seemed like his fifth translation of Genesis that morning. Truth be told he was bored. And worried. His mind wandered to the woman in the smoke and her pronouncement that they would always help each other, that they were bound. He was mulling her over, trying to figure out what she meant, and trying to figure out his own reluctance to tell his brother about what she’d said, when there was a clatter and then a roar which seemed to shake the entire bunker. The lights flickered and Dean was on his feet, gun in hand, pacing carefully in the direction of where the noise had come from. He looked around as the lights seemed to return to normal, and breathed, trying to calm his thoughts.

“Sammy? Cas?”

“Dean? What the hell was that?” Sam rounded the corner from the other side of the library and Dean was altogether not surprised to see his brother had his own gun up.

“Sam, where did you just come from?  Where’s Cas?” Dean’s voice was low, he had no idea what they were dealing with, the damn bunker was still a mystery to them most of the time. Cas seemed to think it was well warded but who knew?

“He was in the store room, that way.” Sam pointed in the direction of the stores, which was also where the noise had come from, and from where Dean could now see wisps of green smoke flowing along the floor and dissipating. He shot an alarmed look at his brother and took off, gun out, to find Castiel.

Dean rounded the open door of the store room, to see more tendrils of the green smoke curling across the floor, swirling around a heap lying on the floor, bundled in Castiel’s trench coat.

Dean’s heart plummeted. He bolted for the bundle on the floor, ignoring his brother’s warnings to wait, and he was on his knees, pulling at the tan fabric.

“Cas. Cas? Buddy are you ok, What happened?”

He heaved Castiel to a sitting point and Castiel groaned, shaking his head, hair falling in glossy waves around his shoulders.

“What the hell Cas, did you find a wig or something? Why would you put it on, you know everything in here is dangerous! Let’s get this shit off you.”

Dean slipped a hand into Castiel’s hair and made to push the wig from his scalp, but discovered it was stuck in place. Castiel winced in his arms and murmured his name, and Dean froze. That was not Castiel’s voice. Taking a breath, he looked again at the man in his arms. And discovered that he was in fact a woman.


	2. Two

“It’s definitely Cas?” Sam pressed Dean again.

Dean huffed, and nodded. He’d just deposited a very confused, very female Castiel into his new bedroom to sleep it off for a while. He wasn’t sure if the guy would actually sleep, but he needed to talk to Sam and he needed some space to think. He and Sam were having a hushed conversation outside Castiel’s door.

“It’s definitely him. Same eyes, same clothes, got pissed when I asked him what day it was.”

“And he’s in a completely female body?”

“How should I know, Sam, I didn’t check down his pants ok? But from the looks of it, yeah, he’s a her.”

“Is he ok?” Sam frowned at Dean.

“I think he’s a little punch drunk at the moment, let’s give him a minute and see how he’s doing, then you can interrogate him. I’m gonna sit with him for a bit, can you go back and have a look at what the hell he was messing about with?”

“Sure Dean, keep an eye on him, yeah?”  

Dean nodded, suddenly protective of Castiel. “Sammy, don’t touch anything if you can avoid it. We don’t want you turning into Samantha.  And more than usual anyway.”

“Very funny, Dean. Go see how Cas is.”

Sam rolled his eyes and headed back in the direction of the store room. Dean quietly let himself into Castiel’s room to find the angel sitting on the bed, head in hands.

“Cas, you ok buddy?”

Castiel sat up straight to look up at Dean, who got a look at Castiel’s new… vessel… for the first time. Dean judged him to be around five six, and the features of Castiel’s face were all still there, deep blue eyes, high cheekbones, soft pink lips. All softened into a more feminine structure, and wiped free of stubble. The effect was disarmingly pretty.

“What happened Dean? I feel like I’ve been in a fight with two archangels.”

“You tell me Cas, you were on the floor when we found you, and, well, you’re looking a little different.” Dean was gentle, Castiel looked bewildered and he didn’t want to scare the angel more than he already was.

“Different?”

“Well, Cas, I think, and I could be wrong, but I think you’re a girl.”

“I’m a what?”

Castiel stood and frowned down at himself. He was swamped in his trenchcoat and suit so he slipped off the coat and the suit jacket. Dean looked at him, alarmed for a minute that he might be planning to shed all of his clothes, and breathed a sigh of relief when Castiel stopped to run his hands down his chest, over his stomach and then freeze, looking at Dean with bemusement.

“My vessel, it’s female.”

“Right. Thats what I said. So Cas, I need to know what you were messing with. So we can get you back to normal.”

Castiel eyed Dean for a minute. “You know angels don’t really have a gender, Dean, don’t you.”

“I know Cas, but I also know that the body you’re using isn’t really a vessel any more, you told me yourself, Jimmy’s gone, and it makes me real nervous when anything messes about with your body. That’s you now. We need to look after it.”

Castiel hummed for a moment and closed his eyes. He opened them and blinked at Dean, looking considerably more alarmed.

“My grace can’t put my form back to the way it was.” His eyes widened as the gravity of the situation sunk in.

“Can you still use your grace?” Dean’s worry bled through into his voice.

The door slammed behind him, and Dean shot around, and then turned back to Castiel who was smirking. “It seems I can. I am perfectly normal, from what I can tell. My body has just changed slightly. And I can’t change it back”

“Right.” Dean frowned, clearly concerned.

“I really don’t think there is anything to worry about Dean.” Castiel stood up, swayed slightly and then his face took on an expression of resolve. “We should continue looking through the archives. Come, Dean.”

Castiel took a stride to the door, and stumbled. He’d tripped over his now overlong pants. He looked down again, and sighed. “Perhaps I should change first.”

“No more searching for today. First we figure out what happened to you, then we deal with it. After that we can worry about kicking the darkness’s ass.”

Sam’s voice drifted through the door and the doorknob rattled. Castiel looked surprised for a moment and then the door seemed to open on it’s own, Sam tumbling through it. He had a tiny pale figure wrapped in a cloth in his hand. He held it out for inspection.

“Cas is this what you picked up?”

Castiel nodded. “I was looking for ancient depictions of the female form. After what Dean said about the darkness being a woman I wondered if any of the many venus figures from what you call the stone age might have actually been in worship to her. I was hoping they might tell us something about her. The Men of Letters seemed to have a number of these figurines and I wondered why.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, it was a smart bit of lateral thinking.

Sam nodded. He held the figurine out for inspection. Dean leaned over and looked closely. It still wafted tiny tendrils of green smoke, but other than that it was a small stone depiction of a female body, exaggerated in it’s roundness, it’s form emphasising the reproductive features, hips, groin and and breasts crudely sculpted, the head nothing more than a nub with few features besides hair.

“Look at this though.” Dean could tell Sam was excited. He turned the form upside down, and showed Dean and Castiel the base, upon which were a series of markings.

“Some kind of language Sammy?” Dean squinted at the tiny slashes in the ancient rock.

Sam shook his shaggy head. “No. A catalogue number.”

Castiel’s eyes lit up in understanding. His voice was soft and higher than Dean was used to when he spoke, but his smile was all Castiel. “Then it will be in the records. Let’s go.”

He gestured for them all to head out of his room, and Sam complied, but Dean paused.

“Cas, seriously, are you ok in there?”

“Dean. The vessel is important. Through it I am able to experience many things. For example, thanks to my vessel you and I can have a conversation, without my destroying your hearing.”

Dean thought back to that first day, in the gas station, when Castiel had tried to talk to him, and smiled wryly.

Castiel continued. “I have become very fond of Jimmy’s vessel, and it has served me well. But if I am honest, what the vessel looks like is of little concern to me. Indeed there may be advantages to my vessel being female, which we are yet to… explore.” Castiel’s speech was firm but his final word was soft, and he could barely look at Dean, who was resolute.

“It’s hinky and I don’t trust it. So we’re gonna fix it. Come on, lets see what Sammy’s dug up.”

Castiel’s feminine face was unreadable for a moment, but then he nodded and followed Dean back to the library, shuffling and hitching up his oversized clothes to avoid stumbling. Sam was nose deep in a book.

“Find anything Sam?”

Sam grunted a response, turned the page and frowned, as he gazed from the book to the figurine and back to the book again. Dean looked at Castiel and shrugged.

“You better sit, Cas, I’ll go get coffee. This could take a while.”

Castiel settled himself into a seat, and Dean was unnerved by how little his female form looked in comparison to the almost six feet tall body of Jimmy Novak that he was used to looking at. Castiel might still have his grace but his current form was swimming in a too large shirt and pants, and looked frankly too small and vulnerable for Dean to be entirely comfortable with.

Dean provided coffee, and for a while he and Castiel sat side by side waiting for Sam to emerge from the pile of books he’d built around him. Eventually Sam dragged a hand through his unruly hair and looked up, clasping the mug of coffee Dean pushed into his hand with gratitude.

“So get this. As far as I can tell that statue is the Venus of Willendorf.” Sam pointed at the figurine, now looking entirely innocuous on the table between them.

Dean looked at him for a moment, and Castiel raised an eyebrow. “When I picked it up I noted that it looked remarkably similar to the Venus of Willendorf, but are you sure it is the actual figure?” Castiel wondered.

Sam nodded. “As sure as I can be without going to Vienna.”

Dean looked from Castiel to Sam. “So for those of us without a billion years of people watching or a college education?”

Sam explained, turning his laptop around to a wikipedia page which showed a picture which was very similar to the little statue sitting between them.

“It was sculpted some time between 25 and 28 thousand years BC, and was found in an archeological dig in Austria. There’s a lot of academic disagreement about why stone age people carved representations of women like this, some think its a reference to fertility or some kind of fertility worship. Others suggest they are some kind of talisman. More modern thinkers question whether they might in fact be self portraits, created by the women of the time.”

Castiel butted in. “I wondered if they might be some kind of talisman against the darkness, some kind of superstition.”

Dean spoke up. “Shouldn’t that thing be in a museum? What’s it doing here, and what did it do to Cas?”

Sam pulled a ledger towards him. “The Men of Letters obtained the figurine in 1909. It was discovered in 1908, and it looks like there was a member of the Men of Letters on the dig that found it. Uh, the one in the museum in Vienna is a fake, apparently, put there by the same guy.”

“Right so ancient, tiny, woman thing. What did the old dead dudes want with it?” Dean was wearing his ‘get to the point Sammy’ look.

Sam shuffled books until he found the one he was looking for.

“It looks like it has the power to transform the male form into the female.”

Dean rolled his eyes and pointed at the now female form of the man sitting next to him. Before he could start bitching to Sam, his brother spoke again.

“It says here that this was a highly prized artefact, that the Men of Letters had been looking for it for some time. They recognised that their decision to exclude women from their organisation left them without the resources they needed sometimes. So, rather than do the obvious and just recruit some damn women, they went looking for a figurine which apparently turns the body female.”

“So does it say anything about switching back?” Dean pressed.

Sam muttered under his breath, skimming further down the handwritten page.

“Yeah, it, oh.” Sam looked up at Castiel, back down at the page again and frowned.

“Spit it out Sam.” Dean’s leg was beginning to twitch.

Sam frowned again and read from the page.

“The cycle shall complete when the cycle is complete.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Sam blushed. “There are some notes underneath. Cas will get turned back, once his, uh, menstrual cycle is complete.”

Dean was silent. He looked at Castiel, felt himself turn red and looked at the little figure on the table again. He looked everywhere he could, except at the angel sitting next to him, and the room felt more awkward than it had ever been.

Sam eventually cleared his throat. “I, uh, I don’t know how long that will take. Most women have a cycle that lasts 28 days. Some are longer, some are shorter. But we could be looking at a month. Or more”

“We’ll cope Sam, don’t worry.” Castiel’s voice was calm, but Dean still couldn’t bring himself to look at him. Her. What the hell was he supposed to refer to Cas as even? Him. Cas was a he, Dean decided.

“I know Cas, I think you’re probably the least bad person this could happen to, you already understand what it’s like to be in someone else’s body so I know you’ll cope. What I don’t know is if this will interact with your grace at all. We saw with Rowena’s spell, the effect it had on you was worse because of you being an angel. I’m worried this will interact in a way we’re not ready for.”

Sam made some good points and Dean focused on his brother as he spoke. “Is there no safety switch or cut off valve to change back quicker?”

“No, there isn’t. There’s a warning here that the spell will be in effect for a full cycle, so not to use it unless absolutely necessary. Apparently the Men of Letters couldn’t think of much worse than being stuck as a woman for a whole month.” Sam rolled his eyes in disdain.

Dean finally chanced a look at Castiel, who simply looked stoic. “I guess I’m going to need some new clothes then,” he muttered, holding up the overlong arms of his shirt.

Dean grabbed the Impala keys. “Sammy, keep looking, if there’ s a magic off switch, I wanna know about it. I’ll take Cas into town, get him some new clothes. We should probably get some food too. Coming, Cas?”

Castiel levered himself from the chair and followed Dean down into the garage, and into the passenger seat of the Impala.

When they returned three hours later Castiel was clad in slim dark jeans, a v neck tee and a black fitted shirt. He wore strong flat boots and carried several bags. As he dropped them in one of the bunker’s many chairs, Sam could now see that he really did have a feminine form. Sam would agree with Dean’s initial assessment, Castiel now stood around five six, was slim, and his dark thick hair was now long and wavy, tumbling around his shoulders. He had curving hips, and a slender waist, and then Sam had to make himself stop looking, it felt like he was checking out his own sister. Dean chose that moment to make his own appearance, carrying more bags, dropping some of them with Castiel’s, and heading immediately into the kitchen to aggressively deposit the contents of the rest into the fridge. As Dean busied himself in the kitchen Sam caught Castiel’s eye and raised a questioning eyebrow. Castiel simply shrugged and gathered his bags, heading to his room to unpack. Sam was at a loss, something had transpired during their shopping trip, but he had no idea what, and it seemed neither man nor angel was telling as they retreated to opposite sides of the bunker.

Later they settled to a quiet dinner. Castiel didn’t need to eat, but he often joined them out of politeness. Dean dropped plates onto the table in front of himself and Sam, and eyed Castiel.

“You sure you don’t want any food?”

Castiel shook his head and smiled softly. To Sam’s knowledge it was the first conversation they’d had since returning from their shopping trip several hours ago. Dean shrugged and dug into his dinner. Sam did the same, still wondering what had happened.

After dinner Dean announced that they needed a break, and had Sam hook a laptop up to the TV so that they could watch movies. When Sam padded off to bed half way through the second spaghetti western Dean chose, Dean just waved him off. He and Castiel sat at opposite ends of the couch, watching but neither really seeing the footage on the screen.

Sighing, Dean eventually grabbed the remote and hitting the mute button. He turned to Castiel.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you Cas.”

Castiel just gazed at him.

“I shouldn’t have lost it like that. I just don’t know, what, where…” He ran out of words, or nerve or something.

“I just wanted your help Dean. I’ve no experience with women’s underwear, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Dean replayed the scene in his head. Waiting outside the fitting room while Castiel tried on clothes with the gentle guidance from the shop assistant. Castiel’s request that Dean give his opinion, relayed via the changing room staff, and Dean coming face to face with Castiel wearing next to nothing when he slipped into the changing rooms. He’d baulked, said something that was likely incredibly insensitive, and bolted from the room, leaving Castiel in the hands of the changing room staff.

“I just, I can’t look at you like that Cas.”

“It’s no different to the conversation we had the other evening. You were wearing only a towel.”

Dean stiffened at the mention of that conversation. Were they going to talk about the kiss he’d convinced himself he’d imagined?

“That’s different Cas. You were in, in…”

Castiel, eyes wide with blue, waited for him to continue.

“You were wearing a bra, Cas.”  ‘And you looked damn good in it’ his subconscious helpfully supplied.

He had though. The shop assistant had swooped in when Dean had proven out of his depth in helping his friend to buy clothes and underwear. The story they’d sold her, that Castiel was replacing a wardrobe lost in a flood, seemed plausible enough, and the explanation that Dean was a friend was also believable in it’s truth. The lovely, warm woman had measured Castiel and then led him around the store choosing good quality basics, noting his requirements, “I need to be able to run”, “my clothes need to be hardwearing”, “no high heels”, and Dean marvelled at how human his angel had become, how well he was adapting to this latest bump in the road. But when the same woman had called him into the changing room and he’d found Castiel, all curves and creamy pale skin and navy blue lace, he’d simply lost it.

“The woman in the shop said that I probably embarrassed you. I didn’t mean to do that. I just know that you have seen more underwear on the female form than I have.”

Dean looked up from where he was contemplating his fingertips and realised that Castiel had somehow crept closer to him, until their bodies were almost pressed together. He turned to face him.

“Cas. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here. The whole world’s going to a place worse than hell from what I can understand. Underwear shopping, it just aint on my list.”

Castiel seemed to look right into him. Dean tried to hold his gaze and managed it for a moment, eventually dropping his eyes to stare at his fingertips again.

“I did embarrass you.”

Dean said nothing. Castiel pressed a hand to his arm.

“I’m sorry. I did not mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Dean let out a huff of air. It was a little late for that. He’d been damn uncomfortable since that fleeting press of lips against his own. Although when he really allowed himself to consider it, much of that discomfort was of his own making. Complex conversations in his own head about his wants, needs and his sexuality often took many voices, including his own, his brother’s (always reassuring) and his father’s (less so). He’d been having these conversations with himself for years, but now another voice joined the discussion, Castiel’s was gentle, firm and insistent.

“Cas, I, you… in your underwear, I…”

Castiel looked on, hair tangling around his softened face. Dean gazed into those stunningly blue eyes, resisting the urge to reach out and tuck the locks away behind an ear, to run his fingers through them, to discover just how soft that hair was. Dean was lost, he knew he was. His feelings for Castiel were as complicated and as simple as every love story ever written. Despite the multitudes of pain they’d caused each other, Dean loved his friend with a deep nurturing affection, Castiel was a member of his family, in the same way as Charlie was, and his heart still stung to think of her. But he’d never looked at Charlie and wondered. He’d never considered her anything more than a little sister. And when she’d shed her clothes to get into her fed suit in the back of his Impala, he didn’t have the need to stare too hard, or to bolt from the car. So Dean knew he was bullshitting himself. He was the expert at that particular art after all. There was more here, and with that tiny, fleeting press of skin on skin Castiel had encouraged him to think that maybe he wasn’t the only one to feel that way. Maybe it was time to face all of this. Hell, Dean had faced far more terrifying things, and yet none seemed so horrifying as confessing his turmoil of feelings only to find rejection. This could be a very bad idea. But Dean was tired, so very tired, of hiding.

“Cas. I need you to understand something. You being a girl, it doesn’t, it isn’t… I just…”

Crap. Pull it together Winchester. Trying a different tack, he started again.

“Cas. You kissed me, the other night.”

Castiel nodded. Ok so he hadn’t imagined it. This was a start.

“I, uh, I wasn’t expecting it. I thought, well, it doesn’t matter what I thought. I uh, I want you to know that I liked it.”

The soft smile that pulled across Castiel’s lips was glorious.

“I just don’t want you to think that I’m telling you this because you’re a girl now. I’m not. And I’m not trying to, well, anything. I just, I don’t know what that kiss meant, but it was good. I liked it.”

Dean knew he was waffling a little, repeating himself, and he mentally groaned at himself, he who was normally so smooth, so in control. But he had to get that out, and hope that Castiel understood enough about humanity or about him to understand why he fled the changing rooms earlier.

“You found me attractive.” It was a statement, not a question and Dean wondered if it required an answer.

“You found me attractive and you ran out rather than say something.”

Dean sighed and nodded, that was the essence of it.

“But you found me attractive before too.” Another statement. Dean waited. He’d said what he needed to say, give or take, now it was time for Castiel to make his point.

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

Dean shrugged, and then realised that a shrug wasn’t good enough here. He looked at the woman that was Castiel, tried to wrap his head around that for a moment, and then focused on his eyes, the eyes that hadn’t changed, and summoned some honesty, an unfamiliar habit for sure.

“No, I wasn’t. I didn’t want to make things complicated, I didn’t want to make things harder for you, with half of heaven on your ass, and to be honest after what I did to you Cas, I was pretty shocked that you ever called me again in the first place, let alone wanted to come near me. So no. I wasn’t planning on saying anything.”

Castiel nodded, and even on the more delicate features his look of frustration was distinctive.

“How long? How long have you thought of me in this way? How long have you denied yourself this?”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t know, Cas, a while I guess. I didn’t know how to, what to say. I didn’t know what you might say.” Dean paused. “Still don’t.”

Castiel smiled, and reached out, fluttering his fingers along Dean’s jaw like he did the first time. The touch felt the same, a graze of light and heat across Dean’s skin and his eyes flickered shut. They opened in surprise when he felt soft lips on his. Castiel was pressed close, his kiss sweet and gentle. Dean caught up eventually and running a hand softly along Castiel’s arm, he returned the kiss, meeting Castiel’s chaste affection with his own.

When they broke apart Castiel’s eyes flickered in the light of the silent tv, and he was smiling still.

“Dean, you know how I feel for you. You know the bond between us. Surely?”

Dean gazed at him.

“You never need to doubt me Dean. Your regard for me, it is an honour. I’m not sure I’m worthy of it, but I have no intention of squandering it.”

“Cas is that your way of telling me you like me too?” Dean frowned at him, and Castiel laughed, nodded, pressed in for another kiss, soft and affectionate. Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel, pulling him closer, feeling months, years of tension and fear falling from his shoulders. it didn’t make everything right, he’d still done horrific things, and he would no doubt still pay for them. But Castiel wasn’t obliged to care for him, by rights should hate him. The fact that he didn’t, the fact that he wanted to be here in Dean’s arms, that knowledge made Dean feel like he could maybe even face all that awful stuff to come, and anything the darkness threw at him besides.

They sat, pressed together, lost in their own thoughts, until Castiel eventually moved, murmured to Dean, “you should get some sleep” and Dean realised it was well past midnight. Dean mumbled agreement and shifted, allowing Castiel to release him and stand. Dean looked at Castiel for a moment.

“Are you, do you… Would you like to come with me Cas? I’m not saying we have to do anything.”

Dean suddenly looked shy, a very rare shade on him. Castiel regarded him intently for a moment.

“Angels don’t need sleep Dean. But my grace is still recovering from Rowena’s spell, and everything else. Rest would be good for me, I would like to rest with you.”

“Yes will do Cas,” Dean blustered, but his smile was pure happiness as he took Castiel’s hand and led him to bed. He fell asleep with Castiel tucked into his arms, his body curved protectively around the angel, nose buried in long dark tresses. They were softer even than he imagined, and smelled like honey.


	3. Three

Sam was circumspect the next morning. He generously ignored the fact that Dean and Castiel emerged from the same room, silently praising whatever god might still be out there that his brother had finally gotten his head out of his ass. Over breakfast he ignored a hundred chances to rib Dean over his new relationship status, which Dean was grateful for, and instead pointed out that they still had a pretty serious to do list.

“The way I see it, we need to track down Crowley and the baby. We need to put a stop to Rowena, permanently. And we need to figure out the darkness and how to stop it.”

“What shall we do after lunch Sammy, that won’t take long.” Dean’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Find Metatron.”

Dean almost growled. He knew Sam was right, but he wanted nothing to do with that particular winged dick. Sam ignored him, turning to Castiel instead.

“Cas, you still hearing angel radio?”

Castiel nodded. “My brothers and sisters have not yet located Metatron, but they are working hard. I suggest we make that search our priority if we wish to beat them to him.”

“OK, so here’s what I think we should do. I’m going to focus on finding Metatron, and tracking Crowley.  You two finish going through the archives, see if there is anything at all referencing the darkness. Keep an eye out for anything that might reverse this spell on Cas too.”

Dean swallowed the last of his bacon and nodded. He stood to pour more coffee, assuming that Sam was done, but apparently he had more to say.

“There's still some stuff we need to deal with about Cas being a woman.  Cas, I wanted to ask you, are you ok with being referred to as a guy still?  I'm guessing Dean didn't even ask, but do you have a preference?"

Dean looked at his brother for a second.  Why hadn't he thought of just asking instead of tying himself in mental knots over what to call the angel?

Castiel shrugged.  "As I told Dean when this happened, angels do not really experience gender as such.  But you are comfortable with refering to me in the male gender, so I suggest we stick with that, unless we are in public.  We may confuse people otherwise."

Sam grinned and nodded his understanding, and Dean was just relieved he hadn't put his foot in it.  Sam had another point to make though and seemed to pile straight into it without pause. 

"I dug this out for you. I don’t know how much you know about the, uh, the female body, since you’ve been almost exclusively male. But you might wanna read up on what to expect.  This should help.”

Sam thrust a small, fairly modern book across the table at Castiel, who picked it up with long fingers. Dean looked over Castiel’s shoulder and blanched when he realised that Sam had given Castiel a guide to female anatomy. As if that wasn’t bad enough his brother was still talking.

“The other thing you’ll need to know is that from what the notes suggested, your body is a fully functional female body, Cas. Which means that, well, you can do all the things that most women can do.”

“Like what Sam, pee sitting down?  He's an angel, I'm pretty sure he doesn't even pee!” Dean was short with his brother.

Sam went pink, looked from his brother to Castiel and back again. His face said that he really didn’t want to be having this conversation. Dean knew how he felt, and wondered where he was going with this.  Sam ploughed on.

“Like getting pregnant, Dean. Cas needs to take precautions. A pregnancy would stop the menstrual cycle. Cas would be a woman for the full nine months it took to have the baby, and god knows who long afterwards until, uh, things, got back to normal.” Sam made a vague wave at Castiel’s abdomen. “Cas needs to be careful. You both need to be careful.”  He pointed from his friend to his brother.

Dean looked desperately anywhere but at his brother. His gaze caught Castiel’s, and he was shocked to find the angel struggling not to laugh. “What the hell Cas?” he spluttered.

“I’m sorry Dean, it’s just so very bizarre. We will be careful, I promise, Sam. I take it that we have your blessing then?”  Castiel reached out and took Dean’s hand, tugging him a little closer, and hoo, boy, apparently today was awkward conversation day in the bunker. Dean waited for the floor to open up and swallow him, surely someone up there was watching and would finally take pity on him.

Sam just smiled, and stood, patting Dean on the shoulder as he passed to get his own coffee refill. “I’m just glad you guys finally figured it out. It took you long enough.”

‘Well, that was relatively painless,’ Dean thought. But no, Sam couldn’t let it go that easily.

“I mean it though, you need to be careful. I don't care what you two get up to in private but I’m not ready to be an uncle and this is no place for a kid.”

Dean groaned, mortified at being given the talk by his little brother.  His response was sharper than it needed to be. “Ok Sammy, we got it. No babies.”

Sam nodded, apparently satisfied to ignore Dean's tone, and headed out of the kitchen to bury himself in research once again. Dean sat down heavily, turning his attention back to Castiel who was paging through the book Sam had given him, an intense look on his face.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 Dean and Castiel worked their way through the archives side by side. After yesterday’s incident Dean was taking no chances, he was determined to keep Cas in his sights at all times. After all, if he’d done that the day before, Castiel might not be looking at him from under a thick wave of hair, which constantly flopped over his eyes despite Castiel’s efforts to push it from his face. Dean eventually took pity on him. Rising from where they were sitting on the floor, paging through boxes of old catalogue cards, he warned Castiel not to touch anything, and slipped from the room. A few moments later he was back with a hairbrush and a covered elastic hair tie, both purloined from his brother’s room.

“Sit still, Cas.” He swept the brush through Castiel’s dark locks, working the tangles out, pulling the hair back and securing it into a ponytail at the back of Castiel’s head, catching up all of the stray strands which insisted on falling over Castiel’s face. His touch was gentle and sure, and Castiel was practically purring by the time Dean declared himself finished, and if he'd taken his sweet time over the task because Cas was clearly enjoying himself under the attention, well no one needed to know that but Dean. He moved around until he was sitting face to face with Castiel again.

“Better?”

Castiel nodded, the pony tail bounced, and the whole effect was surprisingly cute. With the hair pulled from his face, Castiel’s features were exposed, making him look younger and more vulnerable, and Dean’s eyes traced the gentle curve of his mouth as Castiel smiled his thank you, caught up in the sweetness of Castiel's feminine features.

Without stopping to second guess himself, Dean leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Castiel’s mouth, feeling his lips broaden into a full smile as he did so. Before he could pull away Castiel slipped an arm around his shoulder, and returned the kiss, capturing Dean’s mouth with a sigh. For a moment Dean allowed himself to revel in the closeness, the feel of Castiel’s warmth under his hands. Eventually though he forced himself to pull away, smiling softly into the blue eyes which sought his own.

“Back to work.” Dean’s voice was a little roughened and he swallowed to clear his throat. Castiel nodded again, his ponytail bouncing, and bent his head back to the box he’d been digging through.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Over the next few days they drifted into a routine of sorts. Dean and Castiel sorted through the archives, Sam attempted to track down the errant Metatron, and monitored the internet and police bands for potential cases and news on the darkness. Sam also checked in with the other hunters they knew, and with Claire, at Castiel’s request, confirming that she was fine to Castiel’s visible relief. Dean fell asleep most nights with Castiel resting in his arms. The peace was fragile though, maintained by careful avoidance of some very heavy conversations, conversations which included the weight of Sam’s guilt in releasing the darkness, Dean’s shame in his duplicity in not sharing the extent of his conversation with Amara, and his crippling inability to actually deal with it, Castiel’s fear at what might be happening in heaven, and his grief at Hannah’s death. While they were able to carefully avoid these topics, the quiet peace was maintained.

Sam threatened to upset it all just as Dean was starting to embrace the idea of domestic life. A small voice in the back of his mind told him that this couldn’t last, that they would be forced to leave the safe confines of the bunker, and fight for their lives, perhaps the lives of everyone on the planet, and besides, he wasn't cut out for domestic life anyway, but he clung on to the simple domesticity for as long as he could. Sam’s announcement that he’d found a hunt threatened to upset all of that, thrusting them back into the blinding light of the day, where the cracks in their fragile relationships would surely be exposed.

Dean’s first instinct was to look at Castiel, who’d been female for a little more than a week now, shake his head and say no.

“No way Sammy, we wait this out, once Cas is back to normal, we go back to hunting. God knows we deserve a break.”

“Dean, we don’t get a break. We let the big bad out, we have to deal with it, that’s on us. And Cas is fine.”

Castiel nodded. ‘Traitor,’ thought Dean as he glared at his boyfriend.

“Look, it’s a hunt. People are disappearing. We can help, that’s what we do. Save people, hunt things. Besides, it’s a chance for us to get some intel. We need to know what the other side knows about the darkness too. Whatever’s disappearing people might be able to give us some insight. And if it’s demons we might be able to get a line on Crowley too.”

“He’s right Dean. And I’m fine. We should help these people.”

Dean was outnumbered and he knew both men were right. He wasn’t happy about it but he nodded, resigned.

“Get packed, we leave in two hours.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dean dumped an old duffle bag on Castiel’s bed. “Here, you can put your gear in this.”

“Thank you Dean. I mean it, I am fine you know.” 

“Cas, I’m just worried, we still don’t know what’s happened to you, when it might end, and hunting is dangerous work. It’s rough on everyone, but chicks, well they don’t do so well in this business. Are you sure you don’t want to stay here? We’ll probably be back in a couple of days.” Dean thought back to Ellen, and Jo, and then Charlie, and winced.

“I’m not a chick, I’m an angel. I can look after myself.”

“No offence, Cas, but you’re kinda small. Some monster tries to take you down, he’s not going to have a hard time of it.”

Dean hardly had a second to blink before he found himself slammed on his back on the floor, Castiel kneeling above him, his breath knocked out of him. When Dean moved to sit up, Castiel kept him in place, one hand on his chest, fingers spread, his press firm and unmoving. Castiel was solid, a brick wall of barely concealed power, grace flickering in his eyes.

“Do you doubt my strength, Dean?”

“No. Cas let me up damnit.” He grumbled as he struggled under the angel's firm grip.

Castiel released him and lifted him to his feet, as easily as if he were a toy.

“I am fine, I am able to defend myself, and I have knowledge and experience that can help you in your hunt. I am coming with you.” Castiel blazed a look at Dean that firmly closed the conversation, and Dean held his hands up, defeated again.

“Alright, if you say so. Get your shit together, I’ll be down in the garage when you’re ready.”

Castiel smiled, satisfied with his small victory. He tugged Dean in closer for a kiss, and then turned back to throw his new smaller clothes into the bag Dean had provided. Dean watched for a moment, thoughtful.

“You gotta be careful though, Cas, heaven is looking for you, and you don’t have any warding.”

Dean was right, Castiel’s new body had no tattoos, no words of Enochian to keep him from angelic eyes. He was embarrassed to note that he had not considered this additional danger. Dean must have noticed during that brief moment in the changing rooms, and Castiel wondered at the man's observational skills, but had to concede that he was right. Dean came to his rescue once again though. Gesturing for Castiel to sit, he left the room, returning a moment later with a sharpie. Nudging Castiel until he lay back on the bed, Dean unbuttoned Castiel’s shirt from the bottom, exposing pale skin, his breath ghosting across the angel's stomach, making him shiver a little. Dean bent his head and carefully drew the anti possession sigil on the man’s soft, smooth stomach, and Castiel did his best to keep still as Dean worked with one hand, the other gently holding Castiel in place as he drew, his fingers absent mindedly caressing Castiel's skin.  As an angel, Castiel probably wouldn't need an anti possession sigil, but Dean wanted to be sure, and a small part of him felt that this symbol meant more to them now, more than just protection.  The people who wore this symbol were family to him, and he badly wanted that family to include Castiel.  Dean was staking his claim, asking his question, and when Castiel's fingers curled around his free hand, he knew that Castiel understood what he was doing and why.  On the other side of Castiel's stomach, above his hip, right where the lettering had been before, Dean recreated the words in Enochian. Castiel was amazed that Dean knew the script by heart, and wondered how Dean had memorised it when he couldn't have seen it more than a couple of times.  Yet when he looked down and scrutinised Dean’s work, he found it to be perfect.

“I don’t know if that will hold them off for long, we’ll stop at the tattoo shop in Lebanon and get it done properly before we hit the road.”  Dean breathed, looking closely at his handiwork.

Castiel agreed, and moved to redress himself, pausing when Dean didn’t pull away, and for a moment Castiel had the impression that Dean was thinking very hard about something. “Thank you Dean.”  he whispered, reluctant to break the intimacy of the moment.

Dean brushed his fingers over his work, distracted for a second by the thought that he could press his lips to that soft skin, and then looked up and nodded. Castiel saw the flare of want in his eyes and tangled their fingers together as he murmured, “You know in many cultures a kiss is considered a gesture of protection, as well as affection.”

Dean swallowed hard, bent his head and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to the skin just above Castiel’s navel, breathing in his scent for a moment as he willed his simple kiss to keep the man in his arms safe from whatever hell was out there waiting for them. Castiel’s fingers brushed through his hair and Dean hummed a soft noise of pleasure. Sitting up he met Castiel’s eyes. “I mean it Cas, I need you to be careful. We just got you back. I can’t deal with…”  Dean still couldn't bring himself to say it, to lay bare his vulnerabilities.  Castiel came to his rescue, and Dean wondered if it would always be like this, him rescuing Castiel, Cas rescuing him right back.

“You can't deal with me leaving again. Not now. I understand Dean, I will be careful, if you do the same.”  He brushed his fingers along Dean's jaw, gazing into his eyes.

“I’m always careful Cas, you know that.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, and even on the pretty feminine face, the gesture was so very Castiel, that Dean couldn’t help laughing, easing the intensity of the moment they'd shared.  Dean pulled away, pointing to the half full bag on the floor. “Come on man, we need to get moving.”


	4. Four

Newly inked, Castiel took his place in the back of the Impala and Sam explained where they were going and what they were facing, as Dean drove.

“So there have been a string of disappearances in a small town outside of Conway, Arkansas. All young women, mid twenties to mid thirties. None of the bodies were found, none of them have made any contact with their families.”

“So, serial killer? Not really one for us, Sam.” Dean grumbled. He still wasn’t thrilled about going on this hunt.

“All of them were in serious relationships.”

“Ok so they have something in common. Still doesn’t sound like one for us.” Dean pushed, ready to turn the car around and retreat back to the relative peace of the bunker.

“None of the boyfriends remember anything about the relationship.” Sam said firmly.

“Huh? How do they know they were together?”

“All of their friends and family remember. There are photos and everything. Apparently in one case the guy even has a video of a proposal, but he can’t remember it ever happening.”

“What, the whole relationship, just wiped out?”

“Yup.” Sam nodded.

“Alright, I admit, that does sound a little like our kind of thing. We should be there before dark, dig up whatever you can on the most recent disappearance and we’ll visit her boyfriend tonight.”

Dean’s jaw was set, as he piloted the Impala to Greenbrier, Arkansas. His thoughts were flicking back to Lisa, and Ben, the relationship he’d erased from their memory, and his reasons for doing so.  It wasn't a memory he liked to dwell on, he was still hurt and angry and ashamed that they'd had to be protected in that way, from the monsters which would hurt them, simply to get to him.  He'd done that to them and he still carried the guilt. He swallowed all of that down and took a breath to ask a question he wasn't sure he really wanted to have answered.

“Hey, Cas, when you or one of your angel buddies erase someone’s memory like that, of a person, or a relationship, do you leave them like that, with everyone else still knowing the person was there?”

Castiel shook his head in the rear view mirror, long locks tumbling, catching Dean’s eye so that he knew that Castiel understood what he was asking.

“No, when we erase the memory of a relationship in that way we systematically remove and replace all memories of that relationship. It takes a lot of work. If this was the work of an angel, then no one would remember these women.”

Dean nodded, grateful that Castiel hadn’t felt the need to mention Lisa by name. Sam had definitely not approved of his decision to wipe her memory, or Ben’s, but Dean was still firmly of the opinion that it was for their own good, whatever his feelings about it. He kept tabs on them and he knew that they were safe, that Ben was growing up to be a fine young man, and that they were happy, untroubled by the world of pain which followed Dean.

“So what else can wipe memories?” Dean wondered out loud, and Sam and Castiel chimed in with suggestions.

“Gods, demi gods.” Sam noted.

“Witch craft. The king of hell.” Castiel muttered bitterly.

“Uh, a djinn? Sandman? I have no clue.” Sam was clasping at straws now, and Castiel had nothing else to offer, so they drove in silence for a long time.

After checking into a motel and dropping Sam off in town to do some digging, Dean and Castiel donned their fed suits, Dean simultaneously relieved and heartbroken that Charlie had left hers at the bunker, allowing Castiel to use it in his time as a woman. When they arrived at the home of the most recent victim, Castiel followed Dean out of the Impala and hung back a little, looking curiously around the small house as Dean knocked on the door. A dishevelled, tired looking man opened the neat, white painted door and frowned, confused as Dean held open his badge.

“Hi Mr Martin, I’m Agent Tyler, this is Agent Whitman, we’d like to talk to you about Jennifer Spencer, please. Can we come in?”

Dean’s delivery was smooth and practiced. Mr Martin nodded, the confusion never leaving his eyes as he swung the door open wider to allow Dean and Castiel entrance to the small home. He led the way into a small, neat living room, which was dominated by a large black and white canvas photograph of Mr Martin and his girlfriend, Jennifer Spencer. It hung over the fireplace and Mr Martin’s eyes seemed to be dragged to it again and again. He frowned, distracted as Dean observed him carefully.  When Mr Martin remembered himself, he gestured to the sofa.

Dean sat, refused an offer of tea, and got to the point, as Castiel stood behind him, looking around the living room with the same curious look on his face.

“I understand from the police file that you have no memory of your girlfriend, Mr Martin.”  Dean began, as gently as he could given the circumstances.

“Call me Jeff, please. I can’t remember anything. I remember living here in this house, I remember choosing the damn wallpaper, but I have no memory of her being with me when we did it. She’s a stranger to me. But my mother can’t stop crying.  And I've got this feeling, like I've left the oven on or forgot to buy milk or something.  It's almost there but I can't quite drag it forward.  Does that make any sense?  I feel like I'm losing my mind.  Or maybe I already have.  Why is this happening to me?”

Dean consulted the file Sam had put together for him.  It didn't contain answers to any of Jeff's questions.  Dean moved on with his own.

“She went missing three days ago, Saturday lunch time. What do you remember?”

“I was having lunch at the Italian restaurant in town. I had the credit card receipt, I gave it to the police.” Dean made a note to have Sam run this guy’s financials.

“So you paid your bill, then what?”

“I walked back to the parking lot, got in my car and drove home.”

“Why were you having lunch in town, Jeff?”

Jeff looked stricken. “I can’t remember. My mother says I planned it as a treat for Jennifer, but I have no idea. Why can’t I remember any of this? How could I just forget a whole person?  A whole life together?  The police questioned me for a whole day.  I couldn't tell them anything.  They think I killed her, I know it, but I can't even tell them what she looks like.”

“Well sir, I don’t know, but we’re going to try and find out. Do you mind if my colleague and I take a look around your home?”

Jeff shook his head. “The police already searched, but please, go ahead.”

Dean took Castiel to one side, and murmured to him. “We’re looking for hex bags, weird artefacts, anything hinky, you get it?”

Castiel nodded. “There is something here, I can feel it.  I will look upstairs, you take the downstairs?”

Dean nodded. He took a look at Jeff, still sitting on the sofa, looking lost, as Castiel climbed the stairs.

“Sir, we’re going to need to talk to the people who know Jennifer. Do you have the contact details for some of her friends?”

Jeff nodded. “I’ll get my address book.”

Dean combed through the kitchen, checking carefully behind cupboards, and under the sink, finding nothing out of the ordinary. He went through the storage closets in the hallway, and finally moved into the living room, as Jeff watched.

“Jeff, I know you’re going through a lot right now, but can you tell me if anything else seemed off to you? Anything at all that you can remember would be helpful.” Dean’s voice was gentle, the poor guy was distraught.

Jeff shook his head, numbly. He gazed at the huge black and white canvas dominating his lounge, and then looked back at Dean.

“When I got home Saturday that picture was crooked.”

“This picture?” Dean moved towards the large canvas, angling it away from the wall to look behind it. As he looked along the frame of the bottom of the canvas, he spotted it. A small bronze looking disc, about the size of a silver dollar. Dean angled the canvas further away from the wall and reached in to pick up the disc.

“Have you ever seen this before Jeff?”

Jeff shook his head and gazed at the coin Dean held in the flat of his hand. It was pretty much circular, bronze in colour, and Dean figured it was probably the real deal by the weight. On one side there was a stylised animal, what seemed to be a horse in full gallop. On the rear was a complex symbol which seemed to have no beginning or end.  Dean called up the stairs to Castiel.

“Cas?”

Castiel made his way down the stairs, shaking his head, until Dean tossed the coin at him.

“Where did you find this?” he wondered, examining it carefully.

“It was wedged into the back of that canvas.”

“Mr Martin, what do you know about that canvas?”

“Not much. It was our favourite shot from an anniversary photoshoot we did, apparently. My mother tells me that Jennifer adored the picture, said it was very ‘us’.”

“So you’d say that this image was an important one in your relationship? The picture meant a great deal to you both?”

“I would guess so, yes. I don't know.”

Castiel nodded, turning the disc over and over in his hands.

“Agent Tyler, I may have seen this before, we should probably discuss this with Sam.”

Dean nodded. “Jeff, we’ll be in touch. In the mean time please call us if you hear anything from Jennifer.” Dean handed over a card with one of his many cell phone numbers.

Jeff gazed at it for a moment and looked back at Castiel, his eyes watery. “Do you know what happened to her, to me?”

“I’m sorry Mr Martin, I do not, not at this time. But I have seen this coin before. I am hopeful that I can get to the bottom of this for you.”

Castiel reached out to Jeff, and pressed a hand to his shoulder, in a remarkably human gesture and Dean wondered for a moment where he might have learned that such a touch could bring comfort. He and Dean took their leave and within a few moments they were climbing into the Impala.

Dean started the engine, but didn’t pull away from the kerb. He looked over at Castiel expectantly.

“Have you ever heard of the Greek goddess, Mnemosyne? She bore Zeus nine daughters, the nine muses.”

“What does this have to do with poor old Jeff in there?”

“Mnemosyne was a titan, a powerful goddess. She empowered many, many followers, inspired cults, many worshiped her for producing the nine muses, they were inspiration to artists of all kinds. Some followers were extreme, but most of them disappeared centuries ago. This symbol on the back of the coin though, it’s her name.”

“What about the image on the front? It looked like a horse to me.” Dean took the coin back, turning it over in his hands.

Castiel shrugged. “Among the many myths of Greek origin, there are several about horses, I can’t recall any that link to Mnemosyne though.”

“So you think some nutbar could be abducting women in some kind of offering to this goddess?”

“I don’t know Dean, the abduction of women does not fit with the original mythology.”

“OK, lets go see what Sammy’s got. And pick up dinner, I’m starving.”

Castiel grinned, nodded, and tangled his fingers through Dean’s for a moment. Dean flashed a small smile at him, before gunning the car out onto the street and back towards the motel.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After a dinner of diner burgers and pie, the three men returned to the motel and caught each other up. Sam described his trip to the police station in reference to Jennifer’s disappearance. He’d come away with a treasure trove of information, the cops basically handed over the whole file. Witness statements, statements from family members, photographs and even CCTV footage. As far as the cops were concerned Jeff was still the main suspect, the only reason he wasn’t still under arrest was because the cops had absolutely no evidence. Sam had also discussed the other missing woman cases with the lead detective there. At this point the cops were not linking the cases, as they’d failed to notice the consistencies between the four missing women, and there were jurisdictional issues keeping them apart. Sam was happy to leave them in the dark, sure that the cops would only be getting in the way if they decided to launch an overarching investigation into all four. He had however managed to grab digital copies of the other three files, and he laid out all of the information he had for Dean and Castiel.

Castiel shared his understanding of the meaning of the coin they’d found, and gave a brief overview of the goddess in question. Sam resolved to do more research on her, as well as on the cults which grew up in her wake. After a lot of discussion though, they had no solid theories. The CCTV footage of Jennifer and Jeff having lunch did yield one important factor though. Jeff and Jennifer left the restaurant together, hand in hand. Yet an hour later when Jeff was caught on camera at a gas station, there was no sign of Jennifer. The gas station was less than half a mile from the restaurant. Dean agreed to try to chase down other camera footage, to see if he could fill in the gap in the timeline. That would mean a trip to the police station and possibly canvassing the area surrounding the restaurant for private CCTV camera feeds. None of which could be done until morning.

Sam decided it was time for bed, and cleared out into the room adjoining the one they were working in, and Dean hit the bathroom, showering and getting ready for bed. When he emerged Castiel was sitting up in bed, reading intently on Dean’s laptop.

Dean ventured the question which had been rattling round his brain since they watched the CCTV.

“How can we be sure that this guy hasn’t just killed her and dumped her body? All of this could just be some elaborate cover up.”

Castiel conceded the point and nodded gravely. “If it were just one case, I would agree with you, but four? That seems like a pattern to me.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, it does.” He shuffled for a moment and then sat down on the edge of the bed, watching Castiel read. He’d shed his shirt and jeans, and was curled in bed in a plain white tshirt, loose on his petite frame. Dean realised with a laugh that it was one of his own.

“You stealing my clothes now, Cas?”

“I did not bring pyjamas. And the sight of me in underwear makes you uncomfortable. This is… a compromise.”

Dean’s face fell and he realised he needed to clear a few things up.  He studied his hands for a moment and then looked across at the angel curled in his motel bed, wondering for a second how his life had come to this.  Eventualy he managed to get up the nerve to stutter out his point.

“Cas, the sight of you in underwear, well, it’s not that it makes me uncomfortable.”

Dean rummaged around mentally for a few moments more, gathering together the words he needed to explain himself. Castiel noticed the silence and looked up, closing the laptop lid, giving Dean his full attention, a look which was almost overwhelming in it’s intensity and expectation. Dean tried not to shrink from it.

“The other day I ran out of the changing room because I wasn’t ready to see you like that. I wasn’t ready to face the fact that I wanted to see you like that.  Because you were, well you were beautiful, Cas and all I wanted was to touch you.  And I had no idea how you felt.”

Castiel was listening, head cocked to one side, focused on Dean.

“I didn’t want to make things difficult and I wasn’t sure I could control myself, and I didn’t want to make an ass of myself. Which I did anyway.”

Dean shrugged.  Castiel didn’t say anything so Dean continued, aware that he was waffling a bit, but not able to stop.

“Cas, I still don’t know what you want from me, from us. You told me that I had no reason to doubt you, but you didn’t tell me what you want or how you felt. I don’t want to push you into anything you don’t want. But, if I’m honest, Cas, you make a pretty hot girl. I ran because what I wanted, I wasn’t sure if you wanted that.”

“You are concerned that I am not interested in a physical relationship with you, Dean?”  Castiel finally spoke.

Dean narrowed his eyes. Castiel had a way of distilling Dean’s waffle down, getting to the underlying point, and normally he was spot on, but for once he’d missed the point, a little.

“I’m not concerned Cas, no.  Whatever you want from this, I’ll respect it and I’ll try to give you whatever it is you need from me.  I won't push you to do anything you don't want, but what you do want is still a bit of a mystery.  This all goes both ways. I don’t know if you’re comfortable with your own body right now, let alone what I might want to do with it, with you.”

“Oh. That makes sense. The truth is, I don’t know what I want. My experience with relationships has mostly been from an observational perspective.”

Dean understood. It was one thing to watch over humanity, to see love and sex and all of that messy stuff play out, but it was another entirely to be a participant. Add to that the complication of the millennia of conditioning Castiel must have experienced, forcing him to ignore his feelings, his desires, and the catastrophic results when he had followed his own free will.  His experiences to date had not exactly been successful healthy relationships.  Being asked to want something, and then to articulate it, must be challenging in ways Dean couldn't imagine.

Dean decided to try a different approach.  He slipped into bed, pulling Castiel close, and settling the laptop onto the floor, under the bed so they wouldn’t step on it in the morning.  He leaned over Castiel to turn out the light and whisper to him in the darkness.

“How about we just take things slowly. You tell me what you like and what you don’t and we’ll figure it out together.” Dean’s breath was on Castiel’s skin as he shifted position, tucking Castiel in next to him.

Castiel nodded. He burrowed into Dean, seeking comfort, murmuring against his freshly washed skin.

“Huh?” Dean couldn’t make out what he said.

“I like being close to you. I like the way your arms feel around me, and I like the way you touch me.  I want you to touch me.  A lot.  And I've wanted to touch you for a long time Dean.”

“Have I done anything you don’t like so far?”

Castiel thought for a moment and then shook his head.

“Good to know Cas. You need to tell me if I do anything you don’t want. I don’t wanna screw this up. This, you, it matters. We’ve been friends a long time, I don’t want to ruin that.”

"We've beaten each other half to death more than once Dean.  This affection we have could no more damage our friendship than any of those times we hurt each other."

"Cas, I,"  Dean struggled to find the words, to lay himself bare.  He needed to get Castiel to understand that this, what they were doing right now, had the potential to destroy him more than any physical violence ever could.  He felt his throat close up and his heart speed up at the thought of losing Castiel now, after he'd shown the angel the true nature of his feelings for him.  Castiel shifted in his arms, laying his palm on Dean's chest, over his racing heart. 

"If I lost you now Cas,"  Dean whispered into the dark, squeezing his eyes shut to try and block the thought, the fear.  He felt Castiel shift and soft lips pressed against his own.  Dean relaxed into the kiss, and when Castiel pulled away, murmuring, "I know, I know," Dean pulled him close again, meeting their mouths together, running his hand over Castiel’s shoulder, tracing his arm, moving to his hip to thumb over the enochian lettering warding his angel there. Even under the tshirt, Dean knew exactly where it was. As his hand roved, gently mapping the strange shape of Castiel’s body, he flickered his tongue across Castiel’s lips, probing for access, willing Castiel to open to him. When the angel did, Dean explored his mouth, meeting Castiel’s tongue with his own, tasting the man in his arms, enjoying the tiny shifts in Castiel’s body which told him that the angel was enjoying this. Eventually Dean pulled back, breaking their kiss, but not releasing Castiel, wanting to never have to release him again if he was honest with himself.

“How did that feel?” He looked deep in Castiel’s eyes, seeking the truth.

Castiel grinned back at him, lips shining in the half dark of the motel room.

“Good. Very good.”

Dean smiled back. He pressed a small kiss to those lips, and then another, and another, stopping only to stifle a yawn.

“Dean, you must sleep. We have a lot to do tomorrow.”

Dean grumbled but he knew Castiel was right. He rearranged his limbs for comfort in sleep, felt Castiel curl into his side, and closed his eyes, letting his thoughts and fears rest for just a little while, enjoying the rare peace in his brain which seemed to happen whenever he felt Castiel wrap around his body like that. He was asleep so quickly, he half wondered the next morning if Castiel had some how angel mojo’d him into unconsciousness.


	5. Five

Sam gave Dean no time to dwell on thoughts of angel mojo. A little after seven thirty, Dean woke to find his brother shaking him agressively. Dean made a groggy mental note to lock the damn adjoining door next time, and tried to focus on what Sam was saying, but as Castiel shifted in his arms and nudged against his groin, he was reminded of the dream he’d been enjoying, and his thoughts drifted.  Castiel had been laid out like a feast underneath him, writhing and panting into his mouth, arching up into his body, needy and whining as their cocks brushed together.  Sam had interrupted Dean's dream just as it had started to get interesting.  Dean was sleepily musing over the fact that the Castiel in his dream had been decidedly male when Sam’s voice came into focus once more, calling his name.

“What, damnit Sam, what the hell?”  Dean struggled to banish the delicious dream in favour of his brother, and damn this better be important.

“Another woman has gone missing.” Sam was glaring down at him.

Dean threw his head back onto his pillow. Crap.

“Alright, I’m getting up, gimme five minutes.” Sam muttered something about coffee and cleared out, thank god. Dean looked over at Castiel who was sitting upright, fighting his hair into a ponytail, frowning at the abrupt start to their day.   Castiel reached up to fiddle with his hair, exposing soft skin as his tshirt rose up.  A flash of Dean's dream came back to him, Dean pressing soft kisses to Castiel’s stomach, exploring a very enthusiastic angel with his mouth. The skin beneath his lips had been firm and masculine, hip bones sharp and begging to be nibbled, and Dean couldn’t tell which turned him on more, the man in his dreams or the adorably grumpy woman sitting in front of him.  Dean flushed a little, smiled at Castiel and leaned over for a quick kiss, before hightailing it out of bed and to the bathroom, wondering whether it would be very bad form to take care of his arousal before going back out to face his brother. The thought of Sam’s news cooled his enthusiasm significantly though, and in the end he was quick and efficient in the bathroom.  On his way out he bumped into Castiel. His grace restored, it seemed he had no need for human endeavours like washing or cleaning teeth. His hair, while an unruly mop, still shone like it was freshly washed, and Dean knew from experience that Castiel always smelled like the ocean on a sunny day, even when sweaty and dirty after a hard fight. He watched the angel dress for a second, before realising he was staring,  He turned away to get into his own clothes.

When he looked back Castiel was fighting with his hair again. He looked up at Dean who was watching with amusement, and sighed.

“How do women put up with this every day?”

“Just because you were the original bed head, Cas. Come on, what were you trying to achieve?”

“I’m supposed to be a fed, I need to look professional.”

Dean took the brush from his hand, stood behind Castiel where he was sitting, and considered the mop for a moment. He thought back to the women he’d dated, and the way he’d watched them do their hair in the mornings sometimes, if he’d stuck around for long enough.  Each one had had their own morning routines, and their own way of dressing their hair.  Dean decided to try for something simple he'd seen a cute chick in Indiana do once, she'd been an estate agent and she certainly looked the part when she swept out of Dean's motel room the morning after a memorable night, all tight shirt and high heels.  He tried to remember how she'd twisted her hair into a simple, elegant bun, as he took the hairbrush from Castiel.  He smoothed the brush through Castiel’s hair until there were no tangles, and pulled it into a ponytail. He swore Cas’s hair was growing, it seemed much longer than when he’d done this just a couple of days ago. He twisted the ponytail around on itself, until it looped into a neat bun. He secured it with the hair tie in Castiel’s hand, pinning in a few hair grips that Castiel had apparently picked up somewhere along the way.  Finally Dean dug around in his wash bag until he found a tub of hair gel he used occasionally. He rubbed some on his fingers and smoothed it over Castiel’s hair, catching up stray hairs until the result was a neat, orderly bun. He nudged Castiel towards the mirror, and went to wash the remnants of the gel off his hands. Castiel was shrugging on his jacket when Dean returned.

“Thank you Dean.”

“Think yourself lucky you didn’t have to wash and blowdry your hair first Cas, we’d have been here all morning.  You realise it's growing right, like a lot?”

Castiel smiled ruefully, and nodded to the door, where Dean was sure he’d just heard Sam thump back into his motel room.  Sure enough when they went in, Sam was pulling cardboard cups of coffee from a holder, he handed one to Dean and pointed at the paper bag on the counter, which held a breakfast sandwich for Dean, and a sad looking granola yogurt thing for Sam. Sam offered Castiel a cup of coffee, he’d bought three. Castiel smiled gratefully, he didn’t need it or necessarily even taste it in the same way as Dean and Sam might, but he liked to participate in some human rituals, and morning coffee was one of them. It was born, Dean thought, of the need to fit in all those times when they’d sat in a diner, and Dean had urged Castiel to have coffee so as to not make them look any more wierd than they already did.

Once they were all settled around the small table, Sam tapped at his laptop and pulled up the initial police report from missing woman number five.

“Rebecca Alton was 32, engaged a few weeks ago, she was out with some girlfriends drinking last night. When they lost track of her, they assumed she’d gone home early to her fiance, but when one of her girlfriends, Amy, called in the small hours to check that Rebecca had arrived home safe, the girl’s fiance, James, had no idea who she was talking about, and accused uh, Amy of making a prank call. Amy followed up early this morning with Rebecca’s dad, who checked in with James and then called the cops. I got the report when he made the call.”

“Nice work, Sam.”

“Thanks. We need to move on this though Dean, the trail is still fresh.”

“Right, sure. Cas, you and Sam go and check out the fiance, see what you make of him. Cas, I need you to search the house, see if you find another one of these, or anything else that doesn’t belong. If you get chance I think you guys should try and hunt down what the image on the front means too.” Dean tossed the bronze coin to Castiel.

“What about you Dean?” Sam watched him over the top of his coffee cup.

“I’m going to go track down the footage from the club she was at, see if we can figure out what happened, when she left and why. I’ll talk to her friend too. Then I’m going to chase down the rest of the footage we wanted yesterday. I say we meet in the diner later, compare notes, and go from there.”

Sam nodded, and ten minutes later they were out of the door.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

  
Dean struck out with the club, it was more of a dive than a club, and it turned out their cameras were just for show.  The owner didn’t remember seeing Rebecca leave and made it pretty clear to Dean that he wanted no part in any investigation, missing woman or not. The guy did turn over a number for the bouncer though, who was apparently most likely to have seen the woman exit the club. He did little better with the friend, who basically sobbed her way through their whole twenty minute conversation. His luck shifted slightly when a convenience store two doors from the italian restaurant handed over their footage of Jennifer and Jeff leaving the restaurant though, and he was watching that on his laptop when Castiel and Sam arrived at the diner.

Over sandwiches and coffee, Sam explained that the fiance had exactly the same memory problems, and Castiel produced another bronze coin, found in Rebecca’s jewellery box, in a small drawer with a diamond necklace which was a first anniversary gift.

“James is a generous guy.” Dean observed.

Sam shrugged. “James’s buddy, uh, Matt, told us all of that. James didn’t have a clue.  Wasn't thrilled when the police came to pick him up.”

“Anyway, according to Matt, the necklace meant a great deal to Rebecca.” Castiel interjected.

“Ok so we got two missing girls, two bronze coins, and no theories.”

“Five missing girls. There were three more.” Sam reminded Dean.

“And I have a theory, although it’s tenuous.” Castiel offered.

“Go on.” Dean waved his sandwich at Castiel.

Castiel looked at his hands for a moment, and then began to speak.

“I think someone is channeling Mnemosyne. Or some aspect of her. And using that power to wipe these men’s memories. I think the person doing this is probably human.”

“Why would someone do that, Cas? How would someone even do that?” Dean looked at Sam, who shrugged, clearly he’d had this discussion once already. 

“Ancient peoples often invoked the powers of the gods. I think somehow, someone has managed to invoke Mnemosyne’s power over memory, and is using that in some kind of attack.”

“The power of the gods?” Dean was incredulous. “Why would someone do that?” he repeated.

Sam cut in. “If it is a regular human, maybe it’s some kind of revenge. What do the missing women have in common? They were all happily in relationships, two were engaged recently too. Maybe it’s a jealousy thing?”

“So you think maybe we’re looking for a woman?” Dean was back to his laptop. “Check this out.”

He turned the screen to face Sam and Castiel, and hit play. The grainy black and white image began to play out, depicting a couple walking hand in hand past a row of stores. There was no sound, but Sam and Castiel watched as the couple were approached by a young woman.  She appeared to be slender, with long, wavy hair cascading down her back. The camera never seemed to catch her face though.  It was hard to make out what interaction took place, but a few moments later the mystery woman was walking hand in hand with the woman Dean assumed to be Jennifer. Jeff was left to walk alone. What struck Dean was that there was no resistance, no altercation, just a simple discussion by the looks of things.

“So we’re looking for a woman. A witch with a grudge?” Sam wondered aloud.

“I hate witches.” Dean griped. “But hey, could give us a lead on Rowena.”

“Ok, I’m going to hit the library, see what I can find out about this Mnemosyne. You guys should probably check out the other three victims.” Sam drained his coffee, and stood. Dean and Castiel followed suit, and left the diner.

Hours later Dean had five bronze coins, five very confused boyfriends, and no clues. He and Castiel were mapping where the women had lived and where they disappeared from when Sam returned to the motel room, bearing dinner and information.

“So I was reading about Mnemosyne and apparently she presided over this lake, or a river, where the dead could drink and forget their memories of their past lives. I was thinking, there are no rivers in this town, but if this witch is channeling the same goddess, she might be doing it near a lake or a pool of some sort.”

Sam dropped a small bundle of paperwork on the table next to Dean’s map and continued.

“I also went digging into the past, this has happened before, a couple towns over, a few years back. Nine women were taken. None of them ever returned, and the men never retrieved their memories.  One guy killed himself, said his family blamed him for his girlfriend's murder and he couldn't live with it.”

“Nine women, to represent the nine muses of the goddess perhaps. Maybe there’s more to this than just bitterness or jealousy.” Castiel muttered to himself, still sticking pins on the map.

“Well I think we know where to look.” Dean tugged at the map, pulling it out from under Castiel’s fingers, and pointed. The pins Castiel had stuck, showing where the women were abducted, formed a loose semicircle. Dean grabbed a pencil, joining the circle and poking the map with the eraser end. There was a small body of water directly in the centre of the circle he’d drawn.

“We start there. But first, we need to know what it is we’re dealing with. Is it a witch, a goddess, or something else. And we need to go in with a plan. We don’t want to kill this, whatever it is. One of the reasons I agreed to this hunt was to get information. So we gotta take some prisoners. Not our usual approach, I know.”

“So, recon?” Sam asked, eyebrows raised.

Dean nodded. “We go, we look, we don’t touch. Not until we know what we’re dealing with.”

Castiel nodded gravely for a moment. Then with a flurry of feathers, he was gone.

“What the hell, Cas?” Dean yelled, staring wildly around the room. He yanked his phone from his pocket, making it half way through dialling the number for Castiel’s cell when the angel reappeared.

“Damn it Cas, what the hell was that?” Dean was on him in a second, furious.

“Recon, Dean. I went to take a look.” Castiel’s voice held strained patience.

“Cas you don’t do that. You can’t just go barreling into a hunt on your own, especially when we don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

“We’re dealing with two witches.” Castiel’s patience was wearing thin apparently. “You’re welcome.”

He dropped into a seat and waited for Dean to continue his planning.  Dean was nowhere near done with this discussion though and he barreled towards Castiel before whirling around and pacing back to the table again, his fists curled at his sides, his anger barely under control.

“Damnit Cas, you could have been hurt, you could at least tell me where you were going.”

“You would not have approved of my plan.”

“Damn right I wouldn’t.  These witches are abducting women, and in case you hadn't noticed, you're a woman.”

“Do I have to remind you that I am thousands of years old, and a warrior of heaven? I can look after myself, especially against a couple of witches.” Castiel returned to his feet, advancing towards Dean.

“Do I have to remind you that we just lifted a spell cast by a witch that threatened to send you mad and kill you?”

Sam edged out of the room, his retreat unnoticed as Dean and Castiel continued to bicker. He had an idea of what might be coming next and it seemed like a good time to be somewhere, anywhere else.

“Cas, you can’t just go putting yourself at risk like that. If you’d got hurt, we wouldn’t have even known where you were.”

“I am not going to just sit here while young women are being abducted. I have abilities that can help Dean, and I will use them.”  Castiel's vice was a growl, his frustration bubbling through.

“You promised to be careful!” Dean was shouting, invading Castiel’s space now, and a similar frustration was etched across his face, broadcast by the set of his shoulders.

“You do not need to worry so much about me. I can care for myself.”

“For fucks sake, Cas, when are you gonna stop doing stupid shit like this?”

“I got you information you needed, I gave us an advantage in this hunt. I did what we needed.”

“What I need, what I need, is for you to not scare the crap out of me like that.”

Castiel reached out to Dean, grasping him by the upper arms. Gazing into Dean’s eyes, he visibly wrestled his emotions until he was calm, his voice softer, quieter. “Do you trust me, Dean?”

“What the hell kind of question is that? I trust you Cas, of course I do.”

“So trust that I would never risk hurting you by putting myself in harms way. Trust that I am capable of protecting myself. You do not need to protect me, Dean.”

“I protect the people I care about. It’s my job. Even if you don’t make it easy.” Dean was cooling his temper now too. His angel had a point, Castiel was more than capable of kicking ass, but Dean couldn’t face the idea of losing him, not now that they had finally, finally managed to face their feelings for one another.

Castiel hummed, smiled a little and pulled Dean in for a kiss. Dean snaked his arms around Castiel and pulled him in close.

“You’re an asshole, you know that Cas?” He muttered between kisses.

Castiel just nodded, pressing closer, kissing Dean breathless, little murmurs of pleasure ripplng through him as Dean wrapped his arms tighter around the angel, returning his kisses, hot and hard until they were both flushed.

“Don’t think you won this one Cas. You need to tell me before you fly off like that, understand? If I gotta come rescue you I need to know where you went.”  

Castiel nodded, willing to concede that at least.

When Sam returned twenty minutes later, Dean and Castiel were both calmer, and back to studying the map. Castiel described what he’d seen.

“There are two witches, they’re staying in a house on the lake, here. I think they might have bewitched the lake itself, there was no sign of life in the water.”

“Two witches? Did you see any sign of the women they took?” Sam frowned at the map for a moment and then began tapping on his laptop.

Castiel shook his head, no.

“The thing is, are the women even still alive? If they are, where do you stash five women?” Dean was back to gazing at the map again. “Hey, Sam, what’s this place, here?” He pointed at an odd image on the satellite picture they’d searched out on the internet. It was a little further around the lake from the location of the house. Sam frowned for a minute.

“I think that’s a mine shaft. Who would put a mine so close to a lake? That doesn’t make sense. It’s not on the map.”

“But it’s underground, right?” Dean was tapping the screen thoughtfully and Sam nodded in agreement. “It’s worth a look.”

“If that’s built by witches we’re going to trigger a dozen wards the second we set foot in that place. What we need is a diversion.” Dean looked pointedly at Sam.

“You want me to draw out two witches while you and Cas go hunting for the girls? What are you going to do if you find them? Give then back to a bunch of men who have no clue who they are?”

“Good point. We need to figure out what kind of spell they cast on the dudes, and then counteract it. We need to get in that house."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After four hours sitting in the Impala with no movement Dean was bored and twitchy. Sam dozed in the back seat as Dean and Castiel slouched in the front, staring down the street at the house in question. They’d parked as close as they dared, which was still a couple of hundred yards up the street. They waited, watching for someone to leave the building, but they were out of luck.

“I could make them leave the house. It would take a second.” Castiel was almost as antsy as Dean.

“No Cas, we don’t want to make them suspicious at all, we wait til they leave of their own accord.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Why do you insist on doing things the hard way?”

“Why do you insist on putting yourself in danger every chance you get?” Dean hissed back.

“Why do you two have to bicker all the time. Get a damn room and deal with it.” Sam bitched groggily from the back seat. “It’s late, they’re not going anywhere now. I say we come back early, take it in shifts to keep an eye on them.”

Dean grudgingly agreed, and nudged the Impala to life, heading back to the motel.


End file.
